Waiting was always the easiest part.

Sure, there were protective duties involved, but at least his ward was stationary during those times. Establishing a perimeter, keeping tabs on it—just interesting enough to keep him on his toes, but just sedentary enough for him to attend to other business as well.

As a breeze swirled through the clearing below, he watched the blue-and-silver hair glitter, reflecting the moonlight. Not an ordinary breeze this time.

The Awakening was finally taking hold.

The wind became more violent, yet neither leaf nor twig nor snowflake on the ground was disturbed. The energy waves, moving in faint blue currents, could rouse their target but nothing else.

The energy finally dissipated with a snapping sound. There was a brief interlude of silence before a long, low, steady snarl replaced the staccato noises of the previous moments.

"There she is," Sam whispered to himself. He watched as she lay stunned and bleary-eyed for a few moments before finally finding use of her limbs again.

Standing now, she gazed off into the forest with a blank expression on her face.

Sam was glad for the emptiness of their surroundings—his ward needed no distractions just yet. If she had an encounter before she was ready, the results could be highly volatile.

After a few minutes spent skillfully imitating still life, the youngster sat down.

Sam gently sent out feelers, tendrils of his energy intersecting with hers. Yes, her mind was clear.

The student winced and shuddered at the odd sensation, unaccustomed to it.

But when Sam finally leapt from his perch, landing a few feet ahead of her, the squirming made way for stiff hostility. The snarl returned.

Unfazed, Sam strode up to the tiny snow hill in front of the newly Awakened and said, "You haven't tried chasing a cat in years. No point in starting back now."

The young Siberian husky to whom he spoke let out an annoyed chuff.

"I can appreciate the beauty of a comfortable silence as well as anybody—better than most—but I think you'll want to use your words right now." He began to pace by her in that smooth, sinuous gate that makes cats forever look like runway models. He threw a glance back and added, "Unless you're having fun here?"

He only paused for a moment to ask it, quickly resuming his stride.

The Siberian craned her neck to look at him. "I'm dizzy. And sore. And cold. Why am I cold?"

"Ah. A new sensation for someone like yourself, yes?"

He scaled a nearby tree in a few swift movements, settling on a lower branch. "There'll be an adjustment period. There are plenty of changes to get used to. They'll feel natural soon enough, but it'll take some time to adjust. That's why I'm here."

She narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He took a moment to preen his fur, enjoying his little indulgence in the dramatic art of building tension, before turning his gaze to the waiting student. "I'm an angel, Skya."

"And what would that make me?" the young female asked, wrinkling her nose in a mixture of scorn and skepticism.

Sam smiled, a sparkle in his eye. "Another angel." Abruptly he snapped his head in the direction of the waiting town, feeling the need for their presence. Already? He liked to have more prep time, but . . . Guess we'll walk and talk.

"We should go," he said aloud, leaping from the tree in a graceful arc and then heading for forest edge at a trot.

"And what makes you think I'll follow you?" Skya countered.

He stopped and cast a gaze at her over his shoulder. "Even if you can resist a good chase . . . this is the only way you'll get answers." The corner of his mouth ticked upwards as he added, "And this is just speculation, but . . . if I'd suddenly been resurrected, I think I'd have a jones for those. Coming?"

The dog remained with haunches planted firmly on the ground, but Sam could see her resolve wavering. "Besides, kid . . . what are you gonna do out here?"

"I could go home," she said suddenly, fixing him with a glare.

Sam turned to face her fully, taking a seat on the soft snow. Time was short, but he could spare a little patience here. "Might want to think that through a little further. Either they won't know it's you, or they'll know it's you and lose their ever-loving minds from fear. Not the best homecoming." Not wanting her to feel despondent he added, "There are ways for you to visit them . . . but that'll take some training. And it just so happens that I'm the guy for that. So you do have real options here, hon."

The dog couldn't have looked less enthusiastic if she'd tried but finally hauled herself into a standing position and took a few unsure steps towards the cat, regarding him sulkily.

"Let's hit the road," Sam said with all the enthusiasm his new ward lacked, taking off at a lope across the small hills of snow and brush and towards the evening-cloaked town that beckoned in the distance.

++++++++

"Why did this happen?"

"Hmm...He doesn't usually explain that, to be honest. But what I've found is that whomever He chooses has the qualities they need to have. And I already know a few of yours."

She watched the golden tabby as he made his way from the wall to the rooftop. "Like what?"

"You have good instincts," he called out from above. A moment later he quickened his pace to a sprint, then stopped cold at rooftop edge. "Do you feel that?"

He watched closely as she turned her head away, scanning back and forth briefly before zeroing in on a direction tentatively, uncertainly. Answer enough.

"See what I mean?" he said, already feeling a little proud of her. "It's there."

She looked a little skeptical, but more than that she looked anxious to go.

He was amused to note Skya's tail starting to twitch—apparently that bit about huskies' being catlike was true.

She looked up at him, grimacing slightly. "Can we...?"

"Right away," he answered with a nod.

++++++++

"How's your coat?" he asked when they reached their location.

Skye grimaced again. "Doesn't matter," she replied, raising her voice to be heard above the crashing waves. "What the heck are you expecting me to do here?"

"I take it you've never watched a Lassie film?" he said with a small smile.

She edged out a little further onto the rough wooden dock. "Some kind of superhero dog?"

"Close enough."

The wind began whipping more viciously, churning the forbidding grey waves all the more. Icy spray splashed the two, although Sam remained unperturbed.

Skye spoke again. "Look, even if I don't drown before I get there, I'm not gonna be able to get them back. I'm not strong enough."

"Well, that's presumptuous," Sam commented, looking at her with mild disapproval as he stretched his limbs and spine in typical feline style.

"Pre...!" Skya glared at him incredulously, then grumbled, "You're one to talk. And how'd they get out there, anyway?"

Sam smiled, then echoed her earlier statement. "Doesn't matter," he said, lowering his body towards the ground for a moment, then taking off in a flat sprint off the dock...and over the water. On top of the water. "You can ask them yourself," he shouted back over his shoulder, "so come on!"

++++++++

"How the heck did a cat get out there?" a teenage boy with sandy hair shouted over the storm, squinting towards his companion.

"How the heck am I supposed to know, man?"

"Well, cats can't swim, right? There must be a path or something?"

"In the middle of the freaking water?" his companion asked incredulously. "I thought Mom says you're the smart one."

"There might be a shallow spot, moron!"

Sam watched the exchange with a classically unimpressed expression, green eyes staring the boys down imperiously.

Carefully minding his steps, he made his way back toward the edge of the rock outcropping, watching Skya. He watched her test the water a few times, trying to replicate what he had done. Mindful of the boys watching him, he meowed at her over the storm. "That won't work for you yet. Just swim out here."

Skya made her reply in short order.

It had been a while since anyone had thrown that kind of language at him, but it didn't matter right now. It was enough that she was cooperating, even if it was with a heaping load of disbelief and a sprinkling of threats.

It didn't take long before the young female reached the outcropping and hauled herself out of the water.

Sam smiled at her a little too smugly as he meowed at her in welcome. "Not as bad as you expected, right?"

Skya just gave him a dirty look and padded over to the two boys, wagging her tail and licking their hands to show she was friendly.

"You're a husky, not a pitbull. No one here has sense or knowledge enough to realize how dangerous you are."

"How—?"

"Now let's head back," Sam instructed, ignoring her attempts to question him. "Grab one of their hands and move it near your collar. They'll figure it out eventually." Truth be told, she was strong enough to pull both at once, but he knew her doubts made taking one at a time the more practical choice.

The sandy-haired boy caught on quickly indeed, but was stopped by his brown-haired companion. "Dude, this isn't freaking Lassie or some bull!"

Skya glared over at Sam, who pretended not to notice.

"What else are we gonna do, hunh?"

"Someone will rescue us!"

"No one freaking knows we're out here. We'll be dead by the time they figure it out!"

"You don't—Mike!"

It was too late; Mike—a.k.a. Sandy Hair—had made the leap, hand gripping Skya's collar as they plunged into the water.

Sam paced along the outcropping, observing intensely as Skya submerged for a moment and then resurfaced. She coughed up a bit of water, but shook her head and seemed fine.

Sam cast a glance back at Mr. Optimism, who was clinging onto the rocks and watching with clenched teeth as the scene played out. Sam knew the boy's shivering was as much from gnawing anxiety for his brother as it was from the gnawing bite of the cold. The golden tabby padded over to the boy smoothly, offering a chance for a petting session. The boy was clumsy and careless from the cold and fear, but Sam patiently bore the heavy-handedness and roughed-up fur, paying little mind to it.

His focus was back on Skya.

The girl was paddling steadily now, painting a good pace in spite of the ever-roughening waves that splashed and soaked her and her own ward relentlessly. From time to time she would glance back at the boy, ears pricking up as his coughing and choking would reach worrisome levels. There was no such thing as stopping to rest, however, as treading water simply continued to drain energy from them both. All she could do was try to make sure he had gotten his head back up above water before she forged ahead once more.

"Rrrowww..."

"Sorry," Mr. Optimism said, pulling his hand back apologetically after having clenched Sam's fur just a little too hard this time.

Well, that's the most pleasant thing you've said so far, thought Sam, ever the combination of pragmatist and optimist.

Skya was almost at the dock now, not having realized the height barrier posed by climbing onto the structure versus jumping off of it.

It only took her a few seconds to figure that much out, but the problem now was that she was treading water and getting tossed back and forth with increasing harshness as she tried to determine where they could land.

Sam determined the landing point near-instantly, but the question was how best to transmit the information. Though sending the information directly to her mind would be the surer bet, this was also an opportunity to test her awareness when under strain.

He opted for vocal communication once more.

She didn't respond.

C'mon...c'mon, hon. It would take a while for her to wear out, but the boy she was carrying could only last so much longer before he succumbed to exhaustion or the cold.

He just needed her to step outside of the chaos for a moment. He tried once more.

This time she turned her head sharply in his direction.

He confirmed with a toss of his head in the direction of the landing zone.

The young female gave a throaty bark in response and resumed her struggle with renewed intensity, now moving parallel to the shore.

Sam turned back to assess the bruin boy who was still stranded. Physically he could last, but morale would be key. The orange tabby crouched for a moment and then sprang in a graceful arc, landing on the boy's shoulder. 

Just sit tight, kiddo.

By the time Skya had made it back to the rock and then a quarter-way back to the shore, it seemed like they were in the clear.

A difficult first mission, and she'd already shown solid promise. It wasn't a flawless performance or effortless pairing.  But this girl, new and raw, was getting the job done and digging in with what she had. And Sam knew as well as anyone the crafting that went into making a solid professional. Even angels had a learning curve—avengers especially so.

But Sam's musings were interrupted by a presence far afield, back on shore.

A man and a woman sat in a pickup truck on the shore, engine idling. Sam squinted as the man tugged his jacket closer and grasped the hand of the woman, who seemed to be objecting—was objecting.

Sam focused in closer.

The woman watched anxiously—there was an element of the feline about her, Sam noted—as the man exited the truck, shoving his hands into his pockets and shivering. Removing his left hand from the pocket's warmth, the man extracted a flashlight and shone the beam out over the gray waters, soon zeroing in on the rock where Sam stood.

Sam moved to a discrete cranny of the rock. He didn't want his presence to become a distraction. The unfortunate human might try to—

The man leapt into the water.

—save him. Cripes.

The man was a strong swimmer—strongish swimmer—and made decent time as he headed in the direction of the rock. But why? There was nothing...there.

He wasn't headed for the rock. He was headed for Skya. Or, more accurately, for the head of matted brown hair that he could see bobbing intermittently above the waves.

Which meant he was also headed for disaster, or at least defeat.

Tossed and beaten and slapped by the harsh waters, the man kept pace stubbornly, edging ever closer to a pair that was doing perfectly fine without him.

No hints taken.

Beginning to grimace, Sam sent out a succinct thought to Skya, who shuddered once more and began an irritated retort before cutting herself off to further inquire.

"Agh, I hate—what? Who—why? Shoot, can't he see?"

"I don't think he does. You blend in pretty well."

"Not my fault," she grumbled.

"You may need to slow down...or redirect so that you can intercept his path."

Circumventing her intended questions, Sam continued. "If he overshoots the two of you, he'll just end up further out and you'll probably have to backtrack for a third rescue. You're welcome to spend your time that way, but I have responsibilities. And a date."

"That's an odd picture."

"And that's an interesting takeaway right now."

Not without a few grumbled curses of annoyance, Skya angled herself on a course more parallel to the shore for the second time that night.

Sam listened in as Skya noted with some surprise that her stamina was holding up well, as though she did this every day. It wasn't that she wasn't getting tired, but it was the sort of tired where she still knew she'd be able to complete the task.

Nevertheless, time wasn't on her side, so Skya didn't hold back in making her approach to the man.

Sam surveyed the shore in the meantime, hoping there would be no further onlookers with sudden bursts of bravery. Sam could understand being a savior. And he could understand being an optimist. He was both. But what he couldn't understand was being irrational.

And Steven Seagull over there was...irrational.

Even emergency responders would've only entered the situation cautiously—and with plenty of gear and backup. But this guy had stormed in and brought nothing to the table but a red lumberjack shirt and a pair of blue jeans.

But it was a good test. Sam already knew the girl had resilience, but patience would also be needed. Skya needed to control the fiery elements that had become part of her nature in the Transformation.

Taking a deep breath, Sam stepped off the rocks and into—onto—the choppy, discordant surface of the waves. He'd employ the mist to shroud himself from the struggling man, in order to get nearer to Skya, offer some emotional support.

Skya was almost to the man now, close enough for him to see the red glow in her eyes. The man had managed to remain semi calm until now, but panicked at the frightening sight.

Skya slowed her approach, visibly confused by the man's sudden change in behavior and apparent lack of gratitude.

Sam intervened. He would have to teach Skya to do this herself another time, but for now took control—gently but firmly.

The young dog began panicking slightly herself as Sam's energy washed over her in a wave more complete and solid than the ones she'd been fighting throughout the arduous night.

We have to work together on this one, kid.

She turned towards him and snarled viciously, fangs bared. No telepathy needed for that one.

"You're not exactly helping my efforts to make you less frightening," he said aloud, at a volume too low for a human's weak sense of hearing. "Now, come on. Grab him so we can haul out of here."

Unaware of both the feline and the colorful conversation between the two supernaturals, the brown-haired boy seemed to have much the same idea as his two rescuers, though less elegantly executed. "Mr. Crenshaw!" he shouted, flailing out to grab the plaid-clad man. "Come on!" His mouth filled with a splash of seawater and he spit it out profusely, trying to cough the burn out of his lungs.

The thirty-something man responded, grabbing ahold of the boy. "Tom! We have to find something to grab onto! We're not gonna make it back to shore. We have to wait for rescue."

The dog turned her head towards the man sharply at those words. Her eyes were no longer burning red, but Sam couldn't help chuckling, because he knew her gaze was still otherwise burning.

With a harsh sound between a huff and a cough, the husky grabbed on to the shoulder of the man's shirt and began to pivot, showing enormous strength as she moved him around to a position between herself and the waiting shore.

Shocked, the man struggled at first but then changed his mind and wrapped his arm around the dog's neck, treading water.

With adult on her left side and teen on her right, Skye was now on a bee-line path towards the shore. Working to build momentum, she lunged forward, plunging her way through the waves as she would have through snow.

Sam trotted on a path parallel to hers but a couple of yards ahead—near enough for reassurance, far enough for discretion. It wasn't until they were halfway back that he stopped abruptly, head raised and tail twitching. He looked back at Skya. "How much faster can you go?" he asked, a question born of consideration rather than curiosity. "Your blond boy's bringing the calvary."

"I thought you were the blond boy."

"Perhaps, but you're my calvary. I'm talking about one that isn't on-scene. Yet."

Treading water and catching what breath she could, Skya gazed out towards the shore, but the site seemed to sleep as it had all night.

"They're coming," Sam repeated emphatically.

Skye quietly finished his chain of thought. "Which means we need to be going."

"Think you can hack it?"

An especially angry wave seemed to punctuate the question, dowsing Skya with cold brine. With a vigorous head-shake she said, "You'll find out if I go under."

The wind picked up abruptly, but this time seemed in their favor. It was subtle, but the little raft of fur and denim drifted closer to shore, and it was undoubtedly the wind that drew them in, making the churning of the waves seem a touch less malicious.

There was a spark of wonder and relief in Skya's eyes as she registered the changing fortunes.

"Take that as your cue!" Sam called out to snap Skya out of her impromptu reverie. Even with their approach sped up, the urgency of getting the two humans to safety and out of the strength-sapping cold remained.

Skya snapped her head over to Sam and nodded slowly. "Right...right." With lowered head and a steely new determination in her eyes, Skya got back into the fight, throwing the weariness aside to complete the home stretch.

Sam had to keep a quicker pace this time, and he was relieved to find it so.

Finally, finally, the pair was greeted by the goal they'd sought all night. Never had the sensation of cold, wet gravel seemed like such a warm welcome.

Skya hauled herself out of the water, in a near-crawl, her two passengers finally detaching themselves to lie on the shore like beached sea life.

The dribbles of water coughed and spit from their mouths showed they were alive, but their barely responsive states showed what a miracle it was that they'd even maintained their grips and not slipped under the waves, lost to a murky abyss that seemed more grey than blue.

"Sam," the young Siberian huffed between breaths, "are they gonna be okay? They don't look good."

"They'll be fine."

Flicking her ears forward, Skya looked up quickly, eyes widening as she saw Sam still standing on the waves a pace or two from the shore.

"We need a way out," he said, reading the surprise on her face. He resumed surveying the shore before making his decision and stalking over to where Skya now sat. "This is your first mission. You'll learn to draw more strength in the future," he assured her.

"Good to know," answered the husky, who looked more than a little faint. "I thought the older one would pull me under. And I hear drowning's not fun."

"No, it's not," Sam replied soberly, gazing out at the water once more.

He didn't indulge the melancholy for long. "We need to go. This is for the EMTs to handle."

Skya nodded, and began to stand up, but paused when she heard the man groaning slightly. "One second." Padding over to where he lay, Skye peered down at the bleary-eyed man and finally spoke in humans' tongue. "You should leave the rescues to professionals."

The barely coherent man could only groan in response.

As the two sauntered away from the scene and into the town's streets, Sam couldn't help smiling. "It usually takes more practice to do that. You got it on the first try."

"The talking or the rescue?" Skya asked between pants.

"Both."

Skya returned his smile. "Guess I was motivated."

Sam glanced up at her. "Good. Never lose that. And Sky?"

"Yeah?"

"You did well."